Chapter 97: The Initiation
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 97: The Initiation
He glanced at Raphael and then whispered softly to Demich.
“Her Highness’s... youngest...”
“So what? I know that too.”
“She... dotes on him... specially...”
Whatever he heard made Demich jump in surprise, and he immediately set Raphael down.
“Norton, you bastard! You should’ve told me that sooner.”
While Raphael was still coughing and clutching his loosened collar, a hand the size of a house-shingle came down and thwacked him on the back.
“I didn't recognize Her Highness’s one and only precious younger brother... My deepest apologies! Young Lord!”
“You won’t tell Her Highness on me, right?” Demich grinned and whispered into Raphael’s ear.
Norton looked down at Raphael and spoke.
“The training ground is dangerous; there are many sharp objects about. You should head back now. I will escort you.”
“That’s right, little master. This isn't a place for children to just wander into. If you want to play, go play in the garden over there.”
As Demich pouted his lips and made mocking cooing noises, Raphael clenched his fists in a huff.
“I’m not a kid! I’m twelve years old!”
“Huh?” Demich arched an eyebrow. “Liar. You’re tiny.”
Norton, as well as the other knights watching the scene, looked equally surprised.
“I knew those capital folks were slow to develop, but isn't this a bit much?”
“Sir Demich.”
“Honestly, don't you think so? He doesn't look a day over eight.”
“I—I’m going to grow soon!”
Raphael’s face flushed red under his eyes as their gazes swept over him like he was some curious specimen.
“Does the Marquis’s house starve you? Her Highness was the same way, all frail and spindly...!”
“I’m not spindly! I... I’m going to be a knight!”
Seeing Raphael bristle, Demich’s lips curled into a smirk.
“Oh? Have you ever actually trained?”
“Of course!”
Raphael puffed out his chest and shouted confidently. Despite his appearance, he had been receiving swordsmanship training at the Marquis’s estate since he was young. Even at the Academy, he rarely lost when sparring with boys his own age.
Seeing his spirit, interest sparked in the knights' eyes.
Stroking his chin, Demich glanced back at the Vice-Captain.
The grey-haired knight wore a look of disapproval but soon let out a small sigh. It was a signal to handle it appropriately.
Having received tacit approval, Demich gave a wide grin.
“Hey, Leon!”
At his call, a knight standing to the side ran over quickly.
“Leon is the youngest among our knights, but his skills aren't lacking. Would you like to try a spar?”
Leon looked quite youthful in the face, but his physique was anything but.
Raphael looked around. He was surrounded by curious gazes, all wondering how the son of a Marquis would react.
Raphael swallowed hard.
When he nodded, several knights let out whistles.
Demich handed Raphael a suitable wooden sword, and the knights naturally backed away, leaving the two in the center.
“Leon, go easy. Don't go hurting the precious young lord.”
“Read the room, you hear me?”
Raphael gripped the wooden sword tightly at the knights’ mischievous jokes. Leon raised his wooden sword with a relaxed expression.
“Start whenever you are ready.”
Raphael’s fingertips trembled slightly.
It was his first time sparring in front of strangers—especially while surrounded by knights who clearly didn't think much of him.
Honestly, he didn't think he could win, but...
‘It’s okay. I just have to push through with momentum!’
Even if he lost, his sister would surely praise him if she heard he fought bravely.
Raphael gripped the sword firmly.
“Hah!”
He kicked off the ground with his small feet and lunged at Leon.
The sharp clack of wooden swords colliding echoed through the training ground.
Raphael thrust his sword at Leon frantically, recalling everything he had ever learned. As he aimed a strike at Leon’s waist, Raphael watched his opponent’s reaction.
He expected a look of contempt, but Leon actually showed a hint of pleasant surprise.
One could tell just by the clash of blades.
The difference in skill between Raphael and Leon was incomparable. Nevertheless, instead of simply parrying Raphael’s sword away, Leon continued to receive the blows appropriately.
Raphael was out of breath from the relentless pace, but surprisingly, the spar was fun.
The surrounding knights also cheered him on, shouting encouragement every time Raphael’s strength seemed to flag.
“That’s it! There’s an opening!”
“More! Push him harder!”
As time passed, his legs began to wobble. Raphael didn't even have time to wipe the sweat pouring down his forehead, while Leon hadn't broken a single drop.
He felt like he was about to collapse from exhaustion.
It was after they had exchanged what felt like dozens of blows.
“Stop.”
Just as Raphael was on the verge of surrendering, Demich called a halt.
‘I made it to the end.’
Unlike the exhausted Raphael, Leon smiled and lowered his wooden sword.
“That was a good spar, Young Lord.”
“Th—Thank you?”
Thank you for what?
He realized too late that he’d blurted out something silly, but Leon simply nodded and stepped back.
“Wow, our young lord has more grit than I thought.”
As soon as Demich spoke, Raphael slumped down onto the ground. Hearty, boisterous laughter filled the training ground.
Demich walked over and began kneading Raphael’s shoulders and arms as he pleased.
“Your frame isn't bad. If you eat properly from now on, you’ll have a decent body.”
“I eat well even now...”
“You have to eat meat.”
A knight standing nearby chimed in.
“The knights of Blenheim eat plenty of meat three times a day.”
“...What about the Grand Duke?”
“Does the Grand Duke eat meat too?”
“As for His Grace...”
Just as the knight was about to answer, Demich suddenly whispered in Raphael’s ear.
“He doesn't just eat meat; he eats the meat of monsters.”
“That’s how he maintains such a massive physique.”
‘Could the rumors really be true...?’
“Captain, stop it.”
Norton frowned as he saw Raphael’s eyes go wide.
“Instead of quelling the rumors, why are you inflating them?”
“We need rumors like that so those capital bastards stay scared.”
“Do you not care about our lord’s reputation at all?”
“Fear and awe are two sides of the same coin. Well, Young Lord? Isn't our lord quite cool? He slices through monsters like they’re made of paper.”
Raphael nodded slightly, as if his hidden inner thoughts had been discovered.
“See! He says he’s cool.”
The knights watching from the side also gave thumbs up, clearly pleased with Raphael’s reaction.
“The young lord has a good eye.”
“As expected of Her Highness’s brother, he’s very cute and clever.”
Raphael felt a little better at the knights’ unreserved attitude. Even though he had learned the sword from the Marquis’s knights for years, he had never had such a friendly conversation with them.
‘I guess all the knights like Sister, too.’
It seemed his sister was doing better here than he had thought.
Just as he was starting to think the North wasn't so bad, the Grand Duke appeared.
The sound of slow, heavy footsteps echoed on the brick path.
Norton followed behind as Loik and Raphael walked awkwardly together.
Upon arriving at the training ground and finding Raphael, Loik had impulsively offered to walk him back to the annex himself.
‘I volunteered, but...’
What on earth was he supposed to say to his young brother-in-law?
He hadn't realized it when he was with Annette, but Loik was reminded once again of how terrible his social skills were.
A chestnut-colored crown of hair was busy scurrying along beside him.
— “There’s no way the people here would be kind to my sister!”
Back then, when the boy had been hissing at him, he had seemed quite fierce.
“Is the annex comfortable enough?”
Raphael flinched and looked up at him. Was his tone too harsh?
The boy furrowed his brow and mumbled.
“...It’s fine.”
Rude brat.
The only reason he dared speak this way to the Grand Duke of the Empire was because he had someone backing him up. But since that person was Annette, Loik had nothing to say.
Loik asked patiently.
“Did you come out because the training ground was stifling?”
“I was just... curious about the knights...”
“And? Your impression of the knights?”
At that, Raphael mumbled something small. It was roughly along the lines of “not bad.”
Come to think of it, Annette had also stormed the training ground as soon as she first arrived at the castle.
‘Are siblings surprisingly alike in that regard?’
Nothing from their hair color to the shape of their eyes was similar, but every time Raphael moved, the glimpse of his cheek below his crown was quite cute.
“You’re quite well-behaved today,” Loik said, recalling their first meeting in the garden. “Yesterday, you acted as if you were going to take Annette away right then and there.”
Raphael replied with a sharp tone.
“If my sister says she wants to go, I have to take her.”
“Annette is my wife, however.”
Loik spoke with a hint of triumph. The sensation of Annette holding him tightly in her arms just yesterday was still vivid.
“Your Grace is not the type of man my sister likes.”
At those words, Loik suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“Then what is the type of man your sister likes?”